Claimed by His Billionaire Uncle

"I'm just messing around. It's not like I take her seriously.

Why would I bring her out?" Declan's dismissive scoff slipped through the narrow crack of the private suite door, piercing straight through my eardrums.

My fingers locked against the freezing metal doorknob. Inside, fueled by alcohol, my own brother Mason was interrogating his absolute best friend, Declan.

Mason was pressing him on when he finally planned to go public with the secret girlfriend he had kept hidden for the past two years. I was that secret girlfriend.

I had convinced myself that keeping our relationship off the radar was his way of protecting me. What a pathetic delusion.

I took a deep, jagged breath, forced down the violent churning in my stomach, and shoved the ajar door wide open.

Chapter 1 Every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me. "What are you doing here?" Mason crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and patted the leather sofa beside him, gesturing for me to sit. "Our driver took the night off," I said, keeping my voice even. "Mom and Dad sent me to drag you home." Mason nodded, then threw a hard glare around the smoky room. "Put 'em out, guys.

My little sister can't stand the smell." A few of his friends chuckled. "Damn, look at the protective big bro.

What're you gonna do when she finally brings a boyfriend home?" Mason let out a laugh, tossed out a curse, and roughly ruffled my hair. "Don't even think about it.

Our Clara is offlimits. She's pure and sweet—nothing like you filthy animals." The room erupted in laughter.

A guy I didn't recognize leaned forward. "Come on, out of all the guys here, there's gotta be at least one you'd approve of, right?" Mason scanned the room, his gaze finally landing on Declan, who had been sitting in total silence. "If I had a gun to my head," Mason joked, "Declan might pass.

At least I'd get a kick out of making him call me 'brother.' "But after the garbage he just spewed tonight? No way I'm letting him ruin my girl." Mason was just shooting the breeze.

But Declan’s jaw tightened, a dark shadow crossing his face.

His gaze caught mine, then snapped away. "Drop it," Declan muttered, his voice clipped. "I see Clara as a little sister, nothing else." A little sister.

I stared blankly at the tense, rigid line of his jaw.

A sharp burn prickled behind my eyes, and my nails bit deep into my palms. "Clara?" Mason’s voice yanked me back to reality. "Why are you zoning out staring at Declan?" I tore my gaze away and bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper, forcing it to stop trembling.

The guys chimed back in, relentless. "Don't let that pretty face fool you, Clara. The guy's a walking red flag." "For real.

Declan lost a drinking game earlier, and someone asked what he actually liked about that secret girlfriend of his.

You know what he said? "He said she’s like a spineless ragdoll in bed—he can pose her however he wants and she never complains. What kind of messed up reason is that?

Hahaha!" "We honestly thought he was falling for her. But guess what? He just admitted he only kept her around out of pity because she was acting so pathetic and obsessed with him.

Yikes." "And he still refuses to bring her around!

When a guy hides his girl like that, it's either because he's a possessive psycho, or he already knows he's going to dump her, so why bother doing the introductions?

He literally just admitted—" "Shut up!" Declan's voice cracked like a whip. He slammed his heavy glass onto the table with a deafening crack. The room flatlined.

The air in the suite turned thick and suffocating. Mason, being his closest friend, furrowed his brows. "What is your problem tonight? I just told you Piper is coming back.

Why are you acting so triggered?" My breathing stopped. Piper… was coming back? Declan aggressively flicked a lighter and dragged hard on a fresh cigarette.

He took two deep hits before his eyes darted to me.

His jaw clenched again, and he pitched the smoking stick straight into the ice bucket, letting it fizzle out. "Why are you bringing her up?" he muttered.

Mason laughed, oblivious, playing the armchair psychologist. "Stop playing dumb.

If you don't even like that hidden little pet project of a girlfriend, it's obviously because you're still hung up on Piper." Everyone in this room knew he had a secret girlfriend he kept locked away from the world.

But not a single one of them knew it was me. Chapter 2 Whenever he was out with the guys, he'd always pick up my calls, patiently reporting his every move.

No matter how swamped he was with work, he never missed a week of sending flowers and buying gifts. Even Mason used to complain to me, "Declan actually seems hung up on some girl.

It's weird." I'd always kept my face perfectly neutral, but inside, I had been practically drowning in sugar. For the past two years, he was attentive. Romantic. Flawless.

The only catch was that he demanded we keep our relationship buried.

He claimed that if Mason found out his best friend was sleeping with his precious little sister, the guy would lose his mind. I had swallowed that lie without a second thought.

Up until tonight. Up until I heard those exact words from his own mouth. Just messing around… no reason to bring her out… A brutal wave of nausea hit me.

The back of my eyes burned with a pressure so intense it physically hurt. I threw out a sloppy excuse about needing the restroom and practically bolted from the suite.

The second the heavy door clicked shut behind me, my vision blurred. Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and fast.

Thankfully, the pounding bass of the club swallowed the pathetic, broken sounds tearing from my throat.

I spent a long minute staring at the bathroom mirror, dragging in rough breaths until the shaking stopped.

I snatched a paper towel, aggressively scrubbed the wetness from my face, and pushed the door open.

Declan was leaning against the wall a few feet down the dimly lit hallway, waiting for me. Staring at him, that sickening burn clawed at my throat again.

We hadn't seen each other in a month. He had been overseas on a business trip and just landed today. We were supposed to meet up tomorrow. But I was the idiot who couldn't wait.

I was the one who crashed this party just to get a glimpse of him early. He pushed off the wall and slowly closed the distance between us. His eyes locked onto my bloodshot rims.

It took him a long, agonizing minute to finally force out two words. "I'm sorry." It’s actually hilarious when you think about it. "I'm sorry" is the ultimate magic phrase when a guy forgets a dinner reservation—a soft little bandaid that fixes everything.

But when the entire foundation of a relationship turns out to be a rotting lie? It’s worthless.

It saves him the trouble of an explanation and just slaps a definitive death sentence on whatever the hell we were. "Declan," I started, my voice dangerously tight. "Do you have anything to say about what just happened in there?" His gaze flicked away, refusing to meet mine headon. "Why are you being so overly sensitive?

It was just trash talk with the guys. "Why are you taking it so literally? I'd say I've been a pretty damn good boyfriend to you." Sensitive. The word felt like a slap.

A fresh, humiliating tear broke free and slid down my cheek. He reached out, his thumb brushing toward my face to wipe it away. I jerked my head back, dodging his touch.

I dragged in a sharp breath and locked my eyes on his. "Since Piper is the only one you give a damn about, what the hell have I been to you these past two years?

A free piece of ass? A glorified maid on standby?" The second her name left my lips, his features darkened into a vicious scowl.

His voice dropped to a freezing, defensive snap. "You've known I had feelings for her since day one.

Why the hell are you acting like a victim now?" Chapter 3 The hallway heater blasted against my skin, suffocating and thick. My lungs seized.

My breaths tore out in ragged, shallow gasps. A phantom fist crushed my ribs, and the heavy air made the walls spin.

At her name, the warmth drained from his face, leaving behind a stranger. Piper was his absolute trigger.

I opened my mouth to scream at him, to tear him apart, but my throat clamped shut. His phone vibrated, slicing through the heavy silence.

An unsaved international number flashed on the screen. I didn't need caller ID. My gut screamed it was Piper. A frantic spark ignited in his eyes.

He shoved past me, snatching the phone to his ear before it could even ring a second time, terrified of making her wait a single second.

Over the muffled throb of the club's bass, his voice drifted back down the hall—soft, desperate, and sickeningly tender. "Piper…" My gut was always right.

It just conveniently forgot to warn me that my boyfriend of two years never gave a damn about me. I drifted back into the suite like a ghost.

Mason and the guys were still tearing into Declan. "He usually brushes off our trash talk," one of them said. "Why the hell did he snap tonight?

Is he seriously still that messed up over Piper?" Mason took a slow drag of his drink. "What else could it be? For years, every time the guy gets wasted, he mutters her name.

When she first went abroad, he secretly flew out just to see her. "God knows what happened over there, but he came back completely wrecked. Refused to say a word about it.

Then he started dating this new girl. "I watched him actually put effort in, thought he was finally over the heartbreak.

But did you see his face tonight when I told him Piper was coming back? He completely spaced out. I had to call his name three times." I had never seen Declan drunk.

I had never heard him whisper another woman's name. I definitely didn't know he had chased her across the globe. The guys kept talking.

They talked about the unrequited love letters he wrote for her eighteenth birthday, about how he bought out entire racks of her debut vinyl records… There was an entire ocean of history I knew absolutely nothing about.

I sat there, paralyzed, listening to them romanticize his tragic, devoted obsession. I forced my facial muscles into a blank, careless mask.

Under the table, my nails bit so viciously into my palms they drew blood.

The biggest player in the room, a guy with a notoriously garbage reputation, clicked his tongue. "Gotta feel bad for his current girl, though.

Just wasted two years of her life as a seat warmer." I aggressively rubbed my eyes, swiping away a stray, humiliating tear before anyone could catch it.

Mason finished his beer and turned to me. The usual arrogant smirk was gone, replaced by dead seriousness. "Listen to me, Clara.

Never trust a guy." Declan played his role so flawlessly that even my protective brother bought the act.

He had dragged me into his perfect, suffocating illusion, only to shatter it with a pathetic, hollow apology.

I gave a stiff nod. "Yeah," I whispered, the sound barely leaving my throat. "Never again." Declan never came back to the suite.

Mason, actually worried the idiot might do something reckless, dialed his number. He hung up a minute later, swearing under his breath. "That absolute bastard.

Piper calls him saying she's coming back, and he instantly ditches us to go plan her welcomehome party. It's the middle of the damn night.

Is he psycho?" The room erupted in laughter. I stared blankly at the wall, the sound grating against my skull.

My presence was obviously killing the vibe, so the guys quickly killed their drinks and called it a night. Chapter 4 Mason was wasted.

It took every ounce of strength I had to shove his dead weight into the passenger seat of his convertible. Alcohol always made him a chatty drunk.

He slurred his words, rambling to the dashboard about when we were kids. "You used to be this tiny," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely in the air. "How'd you get so grown up?

Driving your big bro around…" I hadn't had my driver's license for long. My knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel, keeping my eyes locked on the dark road ahead.

When I didn't take the bait, he just kept mumbling. "Silent treatment, huh? You've always been locked up in your own head.

You and Piper… grew up in the exact same world, exact same age.

But you two couldn't be more different." At the sound of her name, my fingers clamped around the leather wheel until my joints ached. "Clara," he breathed out, his voice heavy and slurred. "You're my sister.

You're allowed to act out. You're allowed to be a brat and ask for things. You don't always have to be so damn perfect." In my peripheral vision, Mason’s head lolled to the side.

He passed out right after the words left his mouth. But my brain hijacked the quiet, dragging me relentlessly back to our childhood. I had always been exactly like this.

I didn't throw tantrums. I didn't know how to play the cute, demanding little girl. Everyone always joked about how fiercely protective Mason was of me now.

But the truth was, we were never this close growing up. I couldn't even blame him. I wasn't exactly a lovable kid.

Especially not when Piper was always right there—the bubbly, radiant golden child who made me look like a shadow. Everyone gravitated toward her. It was human nature. Mason did.

And so did Declan. They took Piper to the arcade. They caught fireflies for her in the summer. They hoisted her up into the apple trees in the orchard.

Not once did they turn around and ask if I wanted to join. Even the way they talked to us was a dead giveaway. She was always "Princess" or "Pipes." I was just Clara.

Piper would bat her eyelashes and force the older boys to play makebelieve. She was always the royalty.

They were her brave knights and princes. "There can only be one princess, Clara," she would say with a perfect, innocent smile. "You can be my ladyinwaiting." I was always the background prop.

But Declan saw me. When we were ten, Piper went through a phase where she was obsessed with cheesy teen movies.

She dragged the boys into the backyard to bury a time capsule, swearing we'd dig it up years later.

They practically tripped over themselves fetching her fancy stationery and shoveling dirt. I stood a few feet behind them, staring silently at my shoes.

I wanted to bury a wish, too. But nobody asked. They were too busy teasing Piper, calling her a dork while enthusiastically digging her hole.

Even Mason just assumed I was standing off to the side because I thought the whole thing was stupid. The truth was, I was terrified to step closer.

I knew that even if I stood right next to them, I would still be invisible. And that would have hurt infinitely more. But Declan noticed.

He was crouched in the dirt, and when he tilted his head back, he caught the embarrassing sheen of tears in my eyes. "Hey, Clara," he casually called out, seeing my panic. "You want to write one too?

Girls like this kind of stuff, right? I can dig another hole for you." Piper had this innate superpower to make people love her.

She soaked up their devotion like she was entitled to it. I didn't have that. When Declan threw me that tiny lifeline, the gentle, tentative look in his eyes rewired my brain.

I knew I would remember it until the day I died. Through the long, suffocating years of our childhood, those rare, isolated crumbs of kindness piled up.

They fermented into a toxic, unspoken crush I didn't know how to shake. He was right about one thing. I always knew he was in love with Piper. His favorite cello solo?

It was the exact piece she played at her eighteenth birthday recital. The only dish he ever bothered learning to cook properly? Piper's favorite pasta.

In every single memory I had, his eyes were locked on her. And I was always just standing in the background, locked on him. Chapter 5 But he was just so damn perfect.

Whether it was the boy who threw me a lifeline when we were kids, or the arrogant, untouchable guy he grew into later. I didn't stand a chance against him.

After Piper left the country, he was a total wreck. Mason, trying to pull him out of his depression, constantly dragged him over to our place for dinner and video games.

I manufactured every pathetic excuse I could think of—bringing them snacks, grabbing a charger, needing help with my math homework—just to barge into Mason's room and get closer to him.

I got greedy. I prayed that if I just hovered around long enough, he'd magically develop feelings for me. And like some twisted cosmic joke, it seemed to work.

The way he looked at me actually softened.

Then, two years ago, with a faint flush on his neck, he asked me in this incredibly soft voice, "Clara, do you want to give us a try?" Suddenly, the memory of that gentle expression violently collided with the freezing, venomous look he gave me at the club.

You've known I had feelings for her since day one. Why the hell are you acting like a victim now? My vision swam.

I swiped the back of my hand across my eyes, but by the time the blur cleared, it was too late.

The heavy thud of metal crunching against metal violently threw me against the seatbelt as I rearended the car in front of us.

Ever since the crash, Mason had been milking it, barking orders like a tyrant. "Peel these grapes for me. And get me another espresso." I actually felt guilty enough to do it.

I had walked away from the wreck with a few bruised ribs and scraped knuckles. He, however, had a fractured forearm.

He winced in pain, shooting me a resentful glare. "Absolute menace on the road. You learned how to drive from Declan, didn't you?" Declan had been in a crash once.

Right after Piper left the country, he had been driving like a maniac, out of his mind, and wrapped his car around a tree.

He spent two full months recovering in a private hospital wing.

Remembering what Mason let slip at the club, I forced my voice to sound perfectly casual. "Why did he crash his car back then, anyway?" Mason tried to wave me off, but lifted his heavy plaster cast instead, looking ridiculous. "Don't even ask.

It was all over Piper. Snuck out of the country to see her, and came back looking like a damn ghost. "Look at the guy now, completely pathetic.

He's been MIA all week, God knows what he's planning. He knows I got into a wreck and hasn't even bothered to text." So Declan knew about the crash.

And he hadn't sent a single text. Since that night at the club, my chat history with him was completely dead, frozen on that last message: Waiting for you outside.

I wasn't even worth a copypasted 'get well soon'.

Seeing me staring blankly at the floor, Mason got bored and glanced over at the expensive hydrangeas sitting on the coffee table. "Huh? Aren't you usually obsessed with those?

Why haven't you put them in a vase yet?" Declan hadn't reached out to me, but his automated weekly flower delivery still showed up at the door on schedule.

I stood up, grabbed the entire bouquet, and shoved it directly into the trash can. Mason furrowed his brows. "Why did you throw them out?

They're perfectly fine." I let out a cold scoff and ruthlessly tied a dead knot in the garbage bag. "I am sick to death of the smell of cheap lies.

From today on, the only things allowed in my room are the things I buy for myself." Mason actually noticed my foul mood.

Playing the good brother, he insisted on dragging me out of the house to blow off some steam. It wasn't until we pulled up to the venue that I realized what we were doing.

It was Piper's welcomehome party. We all grew up together. She was gorgeous, perfectly sweet, and had everyone wrapped securely around her little finger.

She was the center of our universe. Case in point: Mason practically forcing himself out of the house with a fractured arm just to make an appearance.

Chapter 6 The estate was a masterclass in excessive wealth.

The air was thick with the scent of lilies of the valley, thousands of them, looking like they had been plucked from a garden just minutes ago.

The second we arrived, Mason was dragged off to a poker table by his inner circle.

I was left to drift toward a quiet corner, my eyes betraying me as they frantically scanned the crowd for Declan. Then, a flash of white silk caught my eye. Piper.

It had been three years, and she had only grown more radiant. She had shed the last of her childhood awkwardness, replaced by the effortless, polished grace of a true heiress.

Every smile, every tilt of her head was perfectly practiced. She spotted me and her face lit up. "Clara! It’s been forever!" A knot of complicated emotions tightened in my chest.

I didn't hate Piper. We were the only two girls in our social circle growing up, and being the youngest, she had always been relatively kind to me.

But she was a light that made everyone else look like a shadow. Especially me. I was the drab, gray duckling trailing behind the swan. And, of course, Declan loved her.

The old bitterness, the thorn I had tried so hard to bury, started to ache again. After a few minutes of stiff small talk, the conversation hit a dead end.

I looked around, desperate for a distraction. "The lilies are beautiful," I managed to say.

She reached out, mindlessly flicking a delicate white bell. "Declan specifically chartered a private plane to airfreight these from Finland," she said, her tone almost bored. "I only mentioned them once in passing.

I had no idea he’d go to such extremes for a bunch of weeds. You can't even find this quality in the States." My heart did a slow, painful somersault.

Lilies of the valley were my favorite, too. They were fragile, temperamental, and notoriously difficult to transport. More than half the crop usually died in transit.

Declan had moved heaven and earth to get them for her. He had never sent me lilies. But that was my fault, wasn't it? I never made demands. I never shared my preferences.

I remembered a day at his office when his assistant had asked me what flowers I liked. I was so lost in my pathetic little bubble of happiness that I hadn't caught the subtext.

I told her that anything from Declan was a treasure. Looking back, the weekly bouquets were almost always blue—his assistant’s favorite color.

He hadn't even bothered to stop the deliveries after our fight. He had probably just forgotten to tell her to cancel the standing order.

The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.

He couldn't even be bothered to spend five minutes thinking about what I liked, yet he’d coordinate an international logistics nightmare just to see Piper smile.

Whenever I’d text him to say how much I loved the flowers, he’d always reply with the same line: Anything you want, Clara. I’ll give you the world.

He didn't even know what color they were. People lie. Details don't. Love is in the details, and so is the lack of it. The main doors swung open, and Declan finally appeared.

He looked… uncharacteristic. His suit was wrinkled, and his tie was slightly crooked. Even more shocking—there was actual mud clinging to the soles of his expensive leather shoes.

For a man with a borderline clinical obsession with cleanliness, he looked like he’d just come back from a hike.

He scanned the room, his eyes locking onto Piper with a terrifying intensity. He didn't even see me.

It wasn't until he was less than fifteen feet away that his gaze finally snagged on mine. He froze.

His entire body went rigid before his professional mask slammed back into place. "Declan! You made it!" Piper chirped.

Declan was a shark in the boardroom; even the most ruthless oldmoney investors praised his composure.

He smoothed out his expression, offering a charming, practiced smile as he approached us. Only then did I notice the velvet gift box gripped in his hand.

He pointedly avoided my eyes, extending the box toward Piper. "It took me a while to track this down. That’s why I’m late." Chapter 7 Piper had spent the last few years abroad.

She tore into the velvet box immediately and let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my god, it's the time capsule we buried when we were kids!

I literally wrote that I wanted to be the happiest little princess in the world. How embarrassing!" Declan’s eyes were glued to her face, dripping with sickening devotion.

She was a princess, drowning in everyone’s adoration. Declan was no exception.

He hadn't just orchestrated an international logistical nightmare for her stupid flowers; he had actually clawed through the dirt to dig up a decadeold time capsule with his bare hands.

Yet, he had completely forgotten what today was. Today was our twoyear anniversary. And I hadn't even dumped him yet.

Piper flashed her signature dimples, her smile practically blinding. "Out of all the gifts you've sent me, this one is definitely my favorite!" Hearing that, Declan shot a sharp, warning glare in my direction.

The look spiked the adrenaline in my veins.

I forced my voice to stay perfectly sweet, playing dumb. "Declan sends you gifts often?" "Oh, yeah!" she chirped. "Even though we haven't seen each other these past three years, I get something from him almost every single month.

Last month was a diamond necklace, and the month before that was a custom cello." So I wasn't the only one on his payroll.

The difference was, Piper's gifts were meticulously tailored to her passions. Mine? Last month, his assistant dropped off a pair of diamond stud earrings.

I didn't even have my ears pierced. The month before that, a grand piano showed up at my condo. I couldn't play a single note. I was just an afterthought. A convenient checkbox.

Yet I had been stupid enough to go sit in a piercing chair and hire a private piano tutor.

Staring at the sickening display in front of me, a dangerous, reckless kind of courage hijacked my brain. I tilted my head, my voice dripping with pure sarcasm. "Wow, Declan.

You treat your 'little sister' so well. Does your girlfriend know about this?" A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw.

Before he could snap back, Piper's attention was stolen by a towering figure in the distance. "Oh! My uncle Callahan is here!

I'm gonna go say hi." The second she was out of earshot, Declan grabbed my wrist. His grip was bruising. He dragged me out to the deserted back patio. It was the dead of winter.

The freezing wind sliced right through my thin cashmere cardigan, forcing a violent shiver down my spine.

In the past, he would have instantly stripped off his suit jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and pulled me into his chest. He didn't move a muscle.

His brow was furrowed in a dark scowl, his mind entirely fixated on my little stunt. "What the hell was that about, Clara?" The icy air burned my eyes.

I blinked hard against the stinging pressure and kept my voice dangerously low. "Do you have any idea what today is?" He froze.

His blank stare was all the answer I needed. "Today is our twoyear anniversary!

You promised you'd put that custommade diamond ring on my finger tonight and announce our relationship to everyone!" Guilt, thick and ugly, flashed across his features.

He looked down, his voice losing its bite. "I'm sorry… I've been drowning in the prep for Piper's welcomehome party." Drowning in prep. Right.

People only forget the things that don't matter to them. Throwing her a party eclipsed our anniversary.

It was genuinely laughable. "So busy?" I scoffed, crossing my arms to trap my body heat. "Too busy to find five minutes to properly dump me?" Honestly, I had spent the last few days numbing myself.

If he had just looked me in the eye, offered a genuine apology, and ended things cleanly, I would have walked away.

If I told Mason the truth, my brother would beat him into a bloody pulp. I was actually trying to spare him, out of some pathetic lingering loyalty to our childhood.

My sarcasm completely shattered his guilt. His face darkened, his jaw rigid. "You used to be so sweet and obedient. When did you get so damn venomous?

I never said a word about breaking up." Chapter 8